


I Saw Him Once

by leopharry



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Les Misérables AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopharry/pseuds/leopharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For an ask on the Gosh Dang Davekat Gang.</p><p>"Les Mis AU where Kanaya is Val-Jean, Karkat is Cosette, and Dave is Marius. (Others maybe too, like Rose=Fantine, Jade=Eponine, Dirk=Enjolras, Jake=Grantaire, etc, etc.)"</p><p>Basically the scenes from "Red and Black" until "I Saw Him Once," retold from a Davekat perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Saw Him Once

**Author's Note:**

> I am VERY excited about Les Miserables in general, so I jumped on the chance to do literally anything for this AU.  
> Anyways here it is.  
> Check out the Gosh Dang Davekat Gang [here](http://thegoshdangdavekatgang.tumblr.com/), and [here's my main.](http://leopharry.tumblr.com/)

Dave couldn’t guess how long his belongings would be safe in his apartment after his brother saw him not merely participating, but leading a protest in the city square. He was certain, though, that waiting was an ill-advised course of action, and so he had hurried home after the demonstration before his brother had the chance to collect his things. It didn’t matter much; he had only come for his sword, anyways; the rest were things bought with money earned from the labor of those for whom he protested, and from whom it was jealously hoarded. Not even his clothes could he stand to bring with him, and he considered them with disgust. A single coat had cost more than most made in half a year; the family crest emblazoned on the lapel was worth more than most made over the course of their lives. The extravagance of the life to which he had been born, after seeing the contrasting poverty of far more than he considered right, enraged and embittered him. If he’d had the time, he would have liked to tear the embroidery from everything he owned. 

He had paused in his packing to stare venomously at the hated crest when he heard movement behind him, and he tensed; he clenched the grip of his sword tightly, terrified for a brief moment that he had come too late, and that his brother had found him unguarded and alone.

“Hello, Dave,” a voice hesitantly called out. Dave turned to find a welcome face, hidden slightly behind the arch of his door. When he returned her greeting with a silent nod, she came further into his room. “What’s new with you?” Jade asked in a low voice. “I saw your demonstration. Planning to overthrow the state, huh?”

Dave hid his smile as he rummaged through his wardrobe, looking for any clothes that hadn’t cost his family a small fortune. He did not answer her.

“Are you still pretending to be poor?” she continued to question. He could hear the teasing smile in her voice. “Come on. I know your brother’s rich.”

“Only with money he didn’t earn. Extorted from the poor, more like. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. That bridge is burned,” he finally said. As he spoke, he tied his sheath to his belt loop, grabbed only a white shirt and a pair of trousers, and, with all the grace and aplomb he liked to believe he possessed, exited his room, hurrying down the stairs.

“I like the way you spoke,” Jade called. She began to follow him. “At the demonstration. Very eloquent of you.”

“I like the way you always joke,” said Dave, pausing on the landing, looking away from her. She had no response. Dave did not look to see how her face had responded to the accusation, though he imagined she had stuck her tongue out, poking fun at him as she always did. He continued down the stairs, and after a moment’s hesitation, he heard her follow.

* * *

 

His destination was Dirk’s apartment; Dirk had been with him in the square, had witnessed Dave’s brother confronting him, had heard what he’d had to say about their demonstration, had watched as he strode coolly away with nothing else to say but that Dave was a grave disappointment to their family name. Dirk had offered him lodgings with him, and Dave had gratefully accepted them. He was about to step into the street, but was cut off by a carriage rushing past him, and when he looked across the way, he saw him.

A young man, about his age, with hair dark as a crow and wildly unkempt. His thick eyebrows were furrowed downward, fixed in a resolute glare aimed toward a tall, thin, weary-looking merchant. A taller, elegantly dressed woman held his arm, and she was listening to the merchant with a calm smile. Her hair was as dark as his, but run through in several spots with silver; Dave assumed she must be his mother.

He stared openly, and felt his heart begin to beat faster when the man seemed to feel his stare, looked up, and met his eye.

For just a moment, his brows lifted; the glare was gone; they stared at each other as if they were the last two people on Earth, and it took only that one glance for Dave to fall in love. His hands began to perspire and tremble, and he thrust them into the pockets of his coat. There was a moment, a very brief moment, that Dave felt a surreal sense that he knew the man, though he was certain they’d never met, before he was overwhelmed by the urge to introduce himself. Then the woman spoke, and the man hurriedly affixed his glare on the merchant once more, and with a roll of his eyes, removed a coin purse from his pocket and handed it to the woman. While she counted out her payment, the man shyly looked back toward Dave, who was still staring, his mouth hanging open stupidly and eyes widened in mute awe. The man flushed and looked away, but Dave saw, before his face was fully hidden, the start of a reluctant smile.

Dave’s body would not move, though he could not will himself to. Even as the woman began to lead him away, as she was stopped by a street beggar, as she was led into a tent, leaving the man standing uncomfortably and suspiciously outside, he could not tear his eyes away, nor could he take a step toward him. As the police approached, as the woman hid her face from the inspector, as the scene began, Dave was coerced into motion only to follow the turns of his face; all else from the scene was lost on him. When the inspector was looking away, the woman fled suddenly, dragging the man behind her. She was fast; much faster than any woman Dave had ever known, and as she ran she passed Jade, who was looking, not at the woman, but at the man, with an expression of dawning realization and recognition.

She knew him. 

Dave hurried across the marketplace  and stood at Jade’s side. He could see the hems of the woman’s skirts and the tails of the man’s coat disappearing around a turn, and as if lifted from a trance, Dave asked, “Jade, who was that man?”

“You mean the man who was just flaunting his money in a marketplace full of beggars?” asked Jade in a whisper. She did not look at Dave, nor did Dave look at her; he kept his attention on the corner behind which the man had disappeared, as if hoping he might return.

“Jade, you know him. Could you find him for me?” asked Dave. 

Jade examined Dave’s face at the question; it was unchanged from his typical flat, uninterested stare, but in his eyes she could see the spark of curiosity and excitement, which she noticed with no small amount of surprise.

“That depends. What’ll you give me for it?” she joked.

Dave seemed not to notice the teasing, for he responded, “Anything. Whatever you want.”

Jade felt something like a rock fall into her stomach, and she took her time to choose her words with care. “Well, you sure seem curious, although I can’t imagine why. I’ve never seen you so excited.” She heard a familiar clinking, and looked down to see Dave searching his pockets. The rock in her stomach grew heavier, and it pressed upon her heart. “Dave, no. I was teasing you. I don’t want your money.”

She took a step forward to follow the path they had taken when Dave took hold of her arm.

“Jade,” said Dave. She was shocked at how serious his voice had gone, though he was still staring at the spot where they had disappeared. “Please. Find him for me. But be careful; don’t let anyone know. I--” he interrupted himself and looked at Jade, and the curiosity in his eyes had given way to a desperation which was uncharacteristic of him. “I need to find him.” Then he looked back to where they had disappeared, and began to walk slowly toward it.

“See?” Jade called to him, and he turned back. “I told you so. There’s lots of things I know.” He gave her a small smile and began to walk again, and though he passed the corner around which the object of his interest had turned, he still looked down the alley, searching in vain for a hint of the unkempt dark hair. After he passed it, Jade sighed softly and followed the alley, anxious lest her mother see her and follow wherever she might lead.

* * *

Dirk’s apartment was situated above and let to him by the owners of a cafe. The cafe, which had once been used as a meeting place for Dirk and those with whom he was able to fraternize for longer than an hour, had evolved into the  _ de facto _ headquarters of the revolutioners. There was always a great deal of laughing, and drinking, and pleasantry amongst them, which Dirk almost constantly found intolerable. He was a man of cold logic and imperturbable temper, and he wore the same stoic, immovable frown no matter the occasion. He spoke only when he had something of worth to say. Dave had never heard him laugh nor seen him smile; the only one who had claimed to was Jake, and it had only been once, though he refused to share the details of the occasion. When pressed, he said that he was sworn to secrecy on the matter, and no amount of drink, bribery, or begging would oblige him to break that oath.

The night had started as they usually did; amicable conversation gave way to drink, and drink gave way to arguments. It was in the latter stage of the evening, as everybody angrily (or drunkenly) debated the next step to take, that Dirk, silent up to now, stood, and everyone fell silent.

“It’s almost time,” said Dirk quietly. “The police are getting anxious; they know what’s coming. Take care, everyone; this is not a time for complacency. Nor for drunkenness,” he added, casting a look full of resentment around the room; Jake responded to this warning by taking another swig of wine straight from the bottle. “The army we fight is threat enough on its own. However easy it may be to engage them as we have been, it will be much more difficult for us when the National Guard arrives.” His expression darkened, and he fixed his gaze on the floor. “Some sort of sign or signal. That would be ideal. Something we could use to rally around, to call the people to arms. Something to bring them in line with us.”

“Say, Dave,” said John, who had approached him unnoticed. “What’s wrong with you today? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Have some wine, Dave,” said Jake, who was always eager to talk about anything but the purpose for which they’d all convened. “Tell us. What’s going on?”

“A ghost,” Dave said softly. “Perhaps. He seemed to be a ghost. One minute he was there, the next he was gone.”

Jake gasped. “I cannot believe it. Is Dave in love at last?” Dave picked his head up at that and seemed alarmed. “I’ve never heard him sigh so!” Jake stood suddenly, waving his arms with a flourish, and took another large drink. Dirk, who had been distracted by his thoughts, suddenly looked at Jake, who continued, heedless of his audience. “Here we are, talking of battles and rallying and calling the people to arms, and here he comes like Don Juan! It’s better than an opera!”

Dirk’s impassive stare did not change as he approached the table, but Dave knew that he was displeased by the hunch of his shoulders and the quickness of his step. “It’s time for us all to decide who we are,” he began in a cold voice. “What do we fight for? Have you asked yourselves that? Have you asked of yourselves what the price is that you might pay? Or has this been a game to you all?” 

For the first time since Dave knew him, Dirk was perceptibly angry. The silence that followed was absolute. As he was met with no response, Dirk continued. “Day by day, we’re changing the minds of the people. We’re waking them to the problems of financial disparity and inequality that have been prevalent in our society throughout history, inspiring justified anger. When we’ve accomplished what we intend, we’ll leave behind us a new world. A better one. Now is not the time to be distracted.”

Heat flushed Dave’s cheeks, and he stood. “If you’d been there today, you might know how it feels. To be....” Here, Dave could not explain further. Anything he could think of to explain himself was far too personal to share. “What seems to you to be insignificant might be more important than anything else to somebody else.”

“Dave, I have no doubt you mean it well,” said Dirk. “But now there is a higher call. In the face of such change, how can we care about ourselves? Our lives hardly matter in comparison. Surely you must see that--”

“General Nitram is dead,” a voice called across the room. Every head turned toward the stair to see the pale white face of Jane, who had been waiting outside the general’s house for news.

The silence that followed was such that the quiet footsteps of those outside the cafe could be heard by everyone in the room.

“This is it,” whispered Dirk, and it was only because of the dreadful, somber silence that anyone heard him. “Our sign. General Nitram was a man for the people; they’ll be moved into action now that their protector is gone. Dave, Jake, come. We have much to discuss.”

Dave stood to follow him to another, privater table when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jade waving for his attention. She was smiling at him, and Dave’s palms began to perspire again. He looked to Dirk, who nodded with a roll of his eyes and a lazy, permissive wave of his hand.

Dave followed Jade out the door with an uncommon spring in his step.

* * *

Further along the path that Jade was leading, the man, who was called Karkat, was sitting pensively at his bedroom window, considering all he had seen earlier in the day.

He had always wondered about Kanaya, who, in his childhood affection and desire for a parental figure, had always referred to as “Mama.” She had discovered him, wandering the wood, returning from the well with water that his foster parents had sent him into the cold, dark night to retrieve, and from that moment until the current one, she had grown no less mysterious. She never told him anything about her life or her past before she had adopted him, and his desire to divine her secrets grew stronger every day.

And then, rarely, there were days like today, when she would look fearful and drag him quickly away, and his curiosity was so strong it angered him. Why did she not trust him? For what purpose would she withhold anything from him? He could think of very little that would change his opinion of her; it would take a past full of very severe misdeeds for him to forget his love for her or lower her in his esteem. Why did she doubt him so?

The events of the afternoon weighed heavily on his mind. She had run, not from the beggars or from the threats, but from the inspector, who Karkat could tell in an instant she had recognized. She had hidden her face. She had fled the scene as soon as the inspector’s back was turned, running as fast as she could, pulling Karkat along behind her with a grip like a vice on his elbow. She was frightened; the inspector frightened her. Karkat could only wonder why that might be.

As he was already on the topic of the afternoon’s events, he considered once more the face of the strange man he had seen in the market. It was a pleasant face, he’d decided; blond hair that fell neatly about his ears, great, long lashes that lent innocence to a face that had not yet hardened into the sharp angles that most men boasted. His eyes were a color Karkat had never seen, and were striking and piercing and full of awe as he stared, mouth agape, at Karkat.

His face flushed as he considered the man’s expression. He had never seen a face so lovestruck in all his life, and never had such a glance been directed at him.

In his natural modesty, Karkat had scarcely been able to bear such a passionate stare; for what reason was he the recipient of such a look? He, with his mess of hair and boring, common features? His lack of fashion? His ill temper? He was undeserving of that look, and at times, since his flight from the scene, he doubted that the man had even been looking at him. No; perhaps there had been someone behind him that he hadn’t noticed; that was surely who the man was staring at with such admiration, not himself.

He had not been able to refrain from glancing back at him, if only to see if the man had looked away. To his knowledge, the man had not looked away even once.

Karkat’s pulse raced, and he clenched his fists tightly to keep them steady. 

It was insanity, to feel so strongly about a man with whom he’d never spoken; he did not, in fact, even know his name. And yet, despite this, despite his sense telling him he was being impractical and foolish, he could not help but wish they could have met. Just once. Just once, so he could be certain he hadn’t dreamt it. Though he had no friends or acquaintances, he had never wished for them before today; it pained him to believe this man was a dream when he was the first man Karkat had ever wished to know.

In an attempt to distract his thoughts from that which caused him such discomfort, he sought out Kanaya, and found her sitting in the den, staring into the fire, her mind far away from the present. He cleared his throat to alert her of his presence, and at the sound, she started. 

“Oh, Karkat, dear,” said Kanaya upon turning to see who was intruding on her thoughts. “You startled me. Please, come sit by me. I was lost in thought, and you would prove a welcome distraction.”

Karkat accepted his seat by her side, but could not meet her eye.

“Mama,” he began, his voice soft as the subject of his question required. “What happened today? In the marketplace?”

Her face darkened, and she stared back at the fire and did not answer.

“Why will you not tell me your story?” Karkat pressed. “You are as a mother to me; you saved my life and raised me with love and kindness, more than I ever could have known. If you fear my disapproval, you need not fear it; I am certain there is nothing you could tell me that would give me cause to love you any less.”

“There is nothing I can tell you that you need know,” Kanaya responded with a tense voice. “All the truth you wish for, you will learn in time. Live your life as you will; do not burden yourself with mine.”

“It is a burden I would like to share with you,” said Karkat. His temper, always so short, especially with those he held in high regard, began to heat his voice. “I know in your eyes I am no different than the child you found wandering the woods with nothing but a shirt on my back, but I have experienced some of life. I am not so unburdened that I have no context for what you may have to say.”

“Karkat,” Kanaya interrupted, not unkindly. “That is enough. Do you think it could be that I might not wish to discuss it? That doing so causes me pain and grief?”

Humbled, Karkat dropped his eyes to his hands, which were twisting his shirt in his lap. “Forgive me,” he said. “I had not thought of it that way. I believed you were withholding it from me on purpose.”

“I understand,” Kanaya said. She rested a hand on his, stilling them. “Someday, I will tell you. I only ask that you be patient with me until then.”

Karkat nodded his acquiescence, but did not speak. They sat in peaceful quiet for some time in that way; it was only after the sun had sunk past the horizon that Karkat finally stood.

“I’m going to take a walk around the garden,” he informed her.

“It’s a pleasant night,” said Kanaya, lost deep in thought once again.

He nodded, and went outside.

* * *

The night was as cool as the day had been warm, and Karkat tugged his coat tightly around himself. The moon shone brilliantly down, unobscured by cloud. He wandered aimlessly about their grounds, his mind pleasantly empty of thought beyond his observations of the flowers that were blooming. He heard someone in the road outside the gate but paid them no mind; they were soon gone, and Karkat was alone once more.

“Excuse me, sir?” a voice cut through the silence, and Karkat jumped. He hadn’t heard anyone approach in some time. He turned to see who spoke to him. 

The man from the marketplace stood just beyond the fence. Karkat’s heart leapt into his throat, and he could not think or speak at all. 

“Hello,” the man said. Karkat could only stare, taking in how the light of the moon gave the man an ethereal glow, unearthly, inhuman, his hair shining white, his pale skin glowing; he was the most beautiful sight Karkat had ever seen, and he fell a little more in love with the man in that moment.

But for all that Karkat unabashedly stared, the man’s eye could not rest on any one thing for long, and could not venture near Karkat’s face at all. “Er. Perhaps you don’t remember me; we saw each other in the market earlier this afternoon. Or, it may be you didn’t see me.” Karkat could neither confirm nor deny this, frozen as he was by shock. The man’s face flushed deep red, but his embarrassment seemed only to strengthen his resolve to speak. “Forgive me, I… I saw you earlier, and I wanted to meet you. And I wanted you to meet me. It…. That was very stupidly said. It sounded better when I thought it, but it was a poor choice of words, I’m sorry.” The man took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Please, let me start again: Hello. I saw you in the marketplace earlier, and I couldn’t help but notice you, and so I asked a friend to find you for me, so that I could introduce myself and we might get to know one another. But… I haven’t introduced myself yet, God damn,” finished the man in a mumble. “And, oh, I do not even know your name. I haven’t even asked. I could have asked Jade. But I suppose it’s too late for that now. My name is Dave Strider.”

“And mine is Karkat,” he finally spoke. His voice was soft, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening, and indeed, he could not. This beautiful creature wanted to meet him? He wanted to know him? Impossible! And yet, here he stood, talking too fast and too much and so nervously, and his nerves set Karkat’s nerves on edge, and his heart beat too quickly in his chest.

“Karkat,” the man said, his voice breathless. He spoke it as if it were a prayer and an answer in one word. Karkat could feel the warmth in his cheeks and averted his eyes; there was such devotion in that one word, and the word was his name, and it was too much for him to bear. “Karkat, I’m… afraid I don’t know what else to say.”

“Then it might be best not to speak,” said Karkat, who prayed that Dave would ignore his advice and continue on as he had thus far; though he could not look at Dave’s open, imploring face, and though he could not hear another word spoken to him as Dave had been speaking to him, he wished for it to continue despite his anguish. 

“I hope, sir, that I don’t come across as too forward in saying so, but I worry that if I don’t tell you now, you may disappear again as you did this afternoon, and I’ll never get the chance, so please, hear what I have to say.” Dave implored, and Karkat raised no objection. Dave stepped even closer to the fence, his fists gripping the pickets. Karkat unknowingly mirrored him; they were now close enough that if Karkat extended an arm, he could easily touch him. “I saw you in the market this afternoon, and that only a fleeting glimpse of you, and since then, there has been nothing else on my mind. You are captivating, sir; I would like to know you better.”

His instincts in this moment were to push the man away and refuse, nervous as he was; but the flattery and the sincerity of it were helpful in overcoming his first ideas. “I would like that very much,” he said, unable to meet Dave’s eye.

He felt a hand close around his wrist, and he looked up in time to see Dave press a gentle kiss to his knuckles. He could do nothing else but stare and blush.

“Would you meet me here again tomorrow?” asked Dave, and despite the calm of his features and of his voice, Karkat could sense, underneath that calm, Dave was very excited.

“Well, this is my garden,” he pointed out in a dry tone. Sarcasm was something he’d learned from his Mama, and though he typically disliked it, he tended to utilize it when he felt himself in danger of becoming too emotional where someone might see. “And that is my house. If you walked this road while I was out for my evening walk I could scarcely prevent myself from meeting you here.”

“Then I will meet you here tomorrow,” said Dave, who had seen through Karkat’s sarcasm to the meaning below; Karkat was, in fact, as excited as he was at the prospect. “Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Dave,” Karkat said, and he was surprised (though not so much as before) when Dave pulled his hand forward to kiss his knuckle again. Karkat felt something of a chill run down his spine, though much pleasanter, and much warmer.

Dave tipped his hat in a final farewell, and began walking down the road.

“Dave!” Karkat suddenly called him back.

Dave turned.

“I… I’m glad to have met you,” he said, just in case he never got the chance to say it after tonight.

Dave’s smile was brighter than the sun. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Karkat. Good night.”

 


End file.
